


Pining is for Losers

by goldengan



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bisexual Craig Cahn, College, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, University, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, bisexual dadsona
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengan/pseuds/goldengan
Summary: Now Craig’s in college. With new experiences, ideas, people, and opportunities he never thought he’d have. Craig wonders if he should try new things. Being honest with himself might be the best place to start.~Takes place when Dadsona and Craig are in college.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Waiting years and years before telling someone how you feel is completely normal behavior.
> 
> But, you know, that's a bit wordy.

“If you had to pick one thing, your brains or your love life, which would you choose?”

“Wait, to not have or to have?”

“To… wait,” he rereads it, muttering the words out loud a bit, “If you had to pick one thing to improve – oh okay, missed that part – would it be your brains or your love life?”

“See, I’m still confused though.” I said while I ran my fingers through the shag carpeting, probably not a smart idea but I always liked the feel of it, “Because does the “love life” part mean with people in general or with one person?”

“Hm, it doesn’t specify at all. Why? You got someone in mind?” He was sitting just a few feet away from me on the floor and I knew he was joking, he had to be joking, but my heart fluttered anyways. 

I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced, “Just curious.”

“Well, just like your idea on what constitutes as a smoothie,” I push him a little with the same hand I was feeling the shag with and he laughs, “I’m gonna say it’s up to you, man.”

I think on it for a moment. My right hand is falling asleep under my head, his head is on the crook of my knee, and I can’t help but feel really comfortable right now. I prop my head on the thin fabric of the armrest and lie, “neither.”

I can feel his body move against my leg. From what I can see, he looks shocked. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, bro. I’m fine with the way things are in my life now.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while and I feel a bit uneasy, maybe he can tell I’m lying since I’m so shit at it, so I decide to add, “I mean, I’m not sure what I want to do with my life-“

“That’s obvious,” he laughs and his eyes look back to me to show he was just joking. I remember when I used to think he was an asshole. Wasn’t that long ago, technically. Just a year ago.

“-but I know what I have. And it’s all good.” 

He nods. “I get you, I really do.” He lets it hang in the air a bit so I wait, letting my fingers card through the shag, “But, if there’s room for improvement then why not? I don’t know where my life will take me at all and…” He’s facing away so I’m not sure what he’s feeling. “It’s stupid.”

“No, what, it’s okay, tell me.” I’m worried I sound too eager, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I’d like to think I’d choose brains, because money or happiness and maybe more chances at meeting the right kind of people. I don’t think I would though.”

“So you’d choose love?”

“It’s… I’ve always… I’ve just always wanted to be with someone who got me. And we get married because we’re best friends and barely spend any time apart and we like the same things or enough of them so things are a bit different so it doesn’t get boring.”

“You haven’t thought about this at all.” I’m being sarcastic so I hope he’ll look at me. He doesn’t.

“I know we’re in college,” my heart is in my throat, “so that means I want to better myself in the brains department.” He laughs, it doesn’t sound genuine. “But maybe I’m here just to meet someone.” I feel like I’m going to pass out. At least I’m already laying down. “I know that’s not very smart and there is stuff I want to do with my life but…” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back further into my leg, “that’s what I’ve always wanted. Even as a kid.”

Just like always, I try my damnedest not to read too much into what he might mean, “I guess that makes sense.” I lie again. 

We sit in silence for a bit as we both just stare off into the middle distance. I wonder what life would be like if I didn’t feel the need to lie. If I wasn’t so scared of being wrong. If I wasn’t so scared of anyone finding out. He didn’t seem to mind at all, at least in regards to himself. He is so very open about who he’s attracted to and what kind of people he wants. Ever since we became close I’ve wondered if I’d ever be that person to him. If I’d ever be good enough to fit into his world more than I already am. 

He groans, “Man, sorry I made this awkward.” I forgot what he was talking about for a second.

“Nah, it’s alright, bro.” I shake my head, “it’s cool that you know what you want like that.”

“I just thought this would be a fun game.” He moves from my leg to pick up the box and inspect it. We didn’t have batteries for the important part of the game. The ones that came with it didn’t work. 

“That was the first card,” I say with a little laugh. “We’re also not playing it right. We’re supposed to guess if we’re lying or not, right? Use that buzzer thing.”

“Didn’t know you were such a stickler for rules there, Keg-stand.”

“I mean, what is a keg-stand so I can, like, challenge the form?”

“That’s what I’m doing, Craig. I’m challenging the rules to this game.”

“Isn’t this a girls game?”

“If the commercial and the box are what tells you that then I think you need to spend a little more time in gender studies.”

“I don’t need to take that.” I thought on it. Wait, I changed majors again. “At least I don’t think so.”

“You need some kind of class like that, humanities or whatever, I checked,” I don’t know where I’d be without him. “And I honestly, Craig, it sounds like you need it if you think the color pink and all the girls on this box mean it’s a girls game. You just said how you liked to challenge things.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes. His head is off my leg so I can roll over and prop myself up to see him better.

“You make a solid point, my man. Although,” I can’t help but laugh, “I think fish need water to live.”

“Oh!” He mocked hurt, fluttering his lashes and placing a hand on his chest while I continued laughing, “I wasn’t thinking about that at all! I was just thinking of my best friend Craig.” Best friend? He doesn’t notice my surprise as he goes back to the box. “Now, Craig, the box poses an important question.”

“Lay it on me, bro.”

“Have you ever been kissed by someone real cute? And, no, Smashley doesn’t count.”

I pretend to be hurt by his addition to the question but I do ponder the answer. I don’t think I could ever tell him. I shouldn’t tell him.

I want to tell him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dadsona’s name is Miguel.

Why did porn become so disgusting afterwards? I always wondered if that was a “me” thing or an “everyone” thing. As if I’m ever going to ask anybody else. 

I decided to take advantage of the house being empty. Even put a hot pad on my forehead to trick my mom into thinking I was sick. Like I wanted to play hooky or something. I just wanted to be alone for a little while. I’m used to doing what I want and when, hanging out with whoever I want and for however long I want, I didn’t have to worry about not stepping on a family members toes or impressing the neighbors or anything like that. It’s not like the alone time was for porn time, but alone time quickly became porn time. In the belly of my childhood room I guess old habits die hard. In all honesty, I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t realize how insane my sleep schedule was until I had to deal with normal people on a regular basis. 

Finding my porn stash was cake as my room wasn't converted into anything else. I know that happened to a lot of my old friends. My family was convinced I’d come back homesick and go to the nearby state school. I don’t think they realize how hard-headed I really am. But at least their underestimation worked in my favor. Nothing in my room seemed to be moved. I would say it was untouched but I do have a younger brother, Cameron. And, that little shit, I used to catch him in my room all the time. If he did use it, I don’t want to think much about it, at least he put it back. I would say he didn’t find it, but I’m not delusional. Seems like he developed good manners. Maybe him and his friends traded porn? That’s what me and mine used to do.

I’m still in the calming down part of the “after glow” j/o sesh, so I roll up the magazine and put it under the bed. Just enough that I could reach for it later and just enough so it wasn’t visible from the door. Hopefully it's next to my jizz shirt. And, hopefully, I’ll remember to move both of them later. Or at least before I leave for school again. The thought of cleaning up or showering enters my mind, but it dies quickly. I'll nap instead. My phone has an alarm on it I usually use instead of messing with an alarm clock. Wasn’t too good at getting me out of bed, necessarily. The best use is probably what I’m using it for now. Mom was usually spot on with when she would get back so I knew exactly how long to set it for, something teenage me really appreciated. It’s nice that I can still benefit. Well, hopefully. I’ll be optimistic. 

As I turned on my stomach, I thought of my roommate and I groaned. I hoped being back in my hometown would be relaxing because maybe I could forget about him for a while. But no such luck. It was annoying how often the guy popped into my head. Like, I could be walking the fridge for a drink and I’d think about how he likes to keep beer in the way back of the fridge so it was colder. It really seemed to help when we needed hair of the dog after a big party. I could be laying on the couch and I’d remember how, whenever he’s sleepy but kind of watching tv, he’d tuck his feet under my legs. How when he falls asleep, he’d wiggle them a bit. Just enough so the first time it freaked me out. Or, I could be in the shower and I’d remember how he had a guy over and they both walked out naked and dripping wet because, “we don’t have any more towels” and they dried of in bed, I suppose. Then they took all the bedding, towels, and other laundry to the campus laundromat. But, once they brought back everything, I never saw that guy again. I try not to dwell much on Miguel’s sexual escapades, especially sense it would be a bit hypocritical of me. I mean, I do have an on again / off again type relationship with Ashley, but maybe that wasn’t normal and he was more normal. I don’t know. And, man, at least I just jacked off, otherwise I’d want to right now just remembering his nakedness. Sometimes that’s all it took. Beyond embarrassing. 

I’m not weird; I have had crushes before. Guys in my track team who were lean and long, girls across the street who hung out with my older sister who wore low cut shirts and dark lipstick, coaches who were broad shouldered and had nice lips, teachers who had a pear-shaped body and nice lips. But nothing had ever developed beyond using them for my spank bank. And, honestly, I thought that would be the case with Miguel. Especially since he seemed like such a know-it-all, snarky ass at first. Turns out that is true, but being around him made me realize he wasn’t actually a bad guy. And then hanging out with him more meant my heart began fluttering. At the time I just figured it was the pot; I mean, I'd never tried it before. But I realized I was staring at his eyelashes, his lips and the way they moved around the pipe. It took me a while to realize that I had feelings for him, especially when I’d been trying to avoid that whole side of myself entirely. Well, except for when I masturbated. 

Now, I swear I don't normally allow myself to do this, but as my thoughts were already racing with thoughts of him, I decided to be swept up in memories. I mean, more of them. And, yeah, I think it's a bit obsessive. Which is why I normally don't allow it. It's funny, or sad probably, I just saw him a few days ago but I can't remember his voice. I'm letting him say nice things in my head, things I might have heard him say before but just not to me, but I can't remember his voice. I've heard it in so many variations and instances that I'm a bit shocked at how I'm struggling. Especially sense I've even heard what he sounded like during sex once. His bedmate at the time left the door open a crack and I was trying to write an essay. I got up to close my door to give them privacy, but I stood there for a long time. Not that anybody but me would know. Still felt bad to eavesdrop though. As I tried to remember his voice in any capacity, I fell asleep.

~~~

I woke up thinking my alarm was going off. I open my phone to quiet the sound but, instead of the normal wiggling clock cartoon, there's numbers. And it's one I haven't seen before. Could be my mom calling from somewhere, that's happened once already since I've been here. Could also be Smashley. She did say she'd call. Not too sure if that's going to be a thing. Only time would tell. I'm tempted to ignore it, but I push the answer button anyway.

The greeting on the other end is an immediate wash of his voice. I blinked a few times, wondering if this was a really nice but previously loud dream. "Hello? Craig?"

"Oh, hey man. Sorry, I was taking a nap."

He groaned, "I've been trying not to do that." I hear a chair creaking. "My dad has been on my case about family time. And I wouldn't want to disappoint the 'rents. So I'm trying out this "sleeping at a normal time" thing," I swear, I can see Miguel's air quotes, "It's trash, Craig. You know this, I know this, I'm sure everybody knows this. The whole adult thing is a new concept to me but it seems pretty freaking terrible."

"Being able to sleep at night or being productive during normal business hours is the terrible part?"

"Aren't they one and the same?"

"Could argue that point. Normally I would and you know it," Miguel laughs quietly, "but I'm still groggy, dude."

"And you like to pretend you're not as snarky as me." 

"I don't think I was, actually. This might be late teenage rebellion. I was a good kid. You've ruined me, bro."

"Or you're awake now and you don't mind arguing."

I roll my eyes.

"I can hear that eyeroll from over here, mister!"

I chuckle and shake my head, "Alright, dad." While cracking my neck, I stretch out. He seems like he wants to talk. I should probably get comfy. We've never really talked much over the phone, but it couldn't be too different than the real deal.

"Anyway, I called because I'm bored. Very bored. Everyone is off being a productive adult of the society of capitalistic integrities, or whatever they call it, and I'm just sitting here. Calling my best friend Craig who probably has better things to do." He sounds panicky. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

"What do you have porn wise?" I regretted the sentence as soon as it fell out of my mouth. I still felt out of it and his voice wasn't helping my situation. 

Miguel laughs, "Oh, so you're not busy then. I figured you'd be in the middle of something."

I wondered if it would be easier to lie to him over the phone. Can’t see my facial expressions and all that. Or, in this case, easier to tell the truth. Maybe I could get away with it. Or maybe I was horny again. "I tricked my mom into thinking I was sick so I could sleep in but then I jacked off and then fell asleep. So, no, not busy."

He chuckled, it was low and didn't help matters, "Not an option. Try again."

"Ugh," back to lying.

"You brought it up." His voice remained the same though. Did he always sound like that? Is my childhood room where I imagined myself in crazy porno scenarios playing tricks with my mind? 

"I figured you would, I don't know, think of something else or, like, brush it off." Like when I normally said something stupid.

"My mother wanted to make cookies and sing carols and do all this holiday cheer type stuff, but all I kept thinking about was going home. Then I thought about how this, where I am right now, is home and where we live together is supposed to be away. And it... this is honestly messing me up. My mom went out to meet Becky for a hair appointment and she offered to pay for a haircut, but I'm still on the whole thing about what "home" means and, Craig-" There's a pause and I know he wants me to say something.

"Yeah?"

"I know we don't smoke a lot, but I miss pot right about now."

I can't help it, I laugh. "I'm sorry, man. Sounds like you're going through something, but I totally agree on that last part."

"If we did it more often, I don't think we'd ever leave the dorm."

"Like I want to leave anyways. Wait, are you saying we're stoners, bro?"

"Are we really that far from stoners to begin with?"

Ha. That's fair. "Well, when we get back, we can get Smashley to hook us up."

There's a pause again, I fill it quickly, "I mean, I know you're not, like, her biggest fan, but she does know where to get some choice stuff."

"I'm going to say something, Craig, and it's probably going to be mean and rude and awful."

"Never stopped you before." Might be too unkind, but he doesn't seem to notice. 

"You're aware that she's probably living up to her name to get said pot, right?"

"Me and her aren't, like, going steady or anything." I shuffle in my bed so I can sit up, my sheets move so I can see the tent in my boxers. Seriously? "It's just for fun."

"With a condom fun?"

"No shit. I don't know where she's been."

He laughs loudly at that, "Sometimes I worry about you, but then I remember that your skater bro talk is just an act. You’ve actually got quite the head on your shoulders."

"That, bro, is oddly touching."

"I figured you'd think so." I hear a chair creaking again and I wonder where he is and what he was doing before he called. That's probably just my dick being hopeful. "But, seriously, I'm bored."

"Don't know what to tell you, man." I place my hand on my upper thigh. I'm playing chicken, I guess. The me Miguel thinks is smart versus the me who's thinking with his dick. "It would be easier if we could chill together." 

"So what did you use to jack off to?" Sometimes he had this uncanny ability to make me think he was reading my mind.

"BRO!" 

"Hey!" He says, calmly, "I'm bored, remember?"

"So, you didn't, um, help yourself out earlier?"

"My mom is gone so I decided to use the computer. But then I thought about how mad she'd get if she missed an important call or something. That was only after nothing looked good, of course."

"I have to admit," Oh no, I sure didn't, "all my stash has kinda lost it's luster."

"I felt like I had to give my stash away when I left. Letting my earthly possessions go so I could fully become an adult, or something. But, honestly, porn is such a hassle. The hiding it, the finding it, the hiding yourself jacking to it, and everything else. It’s exhausting.” I’m nodding, but then I remember he can’t see me, “I tried reading one of my mom’s grocery store, smut-athon, Fabio paperbacks and it was too full of rippling muscles grasping a lady and his member was always “bulbous” and “red” and I wonder if it’s okay?” I snort and he laughs, “It all seemed so, I don’t know, uninspired. Like the lady had written so many of these rags that she has a mad-libs style template she keeps around and just changes the names and the places. I can’t jack it to a mad-lib, Craig.”

I’m glad I’m home alone because, holy shit, he’s got me with that one. 

“Seriously, man, it was awful.”

“I believe you, bro. I can’t help but believe you. I mean, I’ve never read one of those things-“

“You should be so lucky.”

“Sounds like you got far?”

“I actually didn’t. They got straight to fucking in the third chapter. That was it for me. No build-up at all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I was so busy thinking about what Miguel was saying, I completely forgot to not say something gay.

“I’m honestly not…” He’s sounding panicky again and I wish I didn’t say something so fucking gay, “This is weird and stupid, I’m sorry. I’m always making things weird.” Wait, what? He fake laughs, like he does sometimes, and I don’t say anything this time. I can’t. Because I’m very confused as to why my gay thing meant he messed up? “I just, I mean, I miss you – not in a weird way! I’m just used to having you around all the time and…” I remember how close my hand is to my dick and I wonder if I can touch myself without him knowing I am. “My sister is gone and normally we’d hang out. Everything feels off because she’s not here. Mom’s trying to make it all seem okay but it’s really not.” I move my hand away, feeling like a complete asshole.

“Man, I’m sorry. That’s gotta be rough.” It doesn’t matter that I’m horny, I’m just not much in the way of comforting words.

“There’s nothing you can do but thank you.”

I hear the chair creak and part of me feels like I should just let the comment linger. What more could I say, anyway?

“I just wish I knew more about what’s going on with her and that I could meet this so called “amazing guy” she’s seeing.”

“Norma is away seeing a boyfriend?” I worry for a moment that I have her name wrong.

“Yeah,” good, I don’t, “She’s with his family. They live in Hawaii, you know, like you do-“

“If you’re from there, probably.”

“I guess you’re right. But I don’t even know that. I just, I don’t know, I miss her.”

I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say but, “I can’t lie, I’m super jealous. I bet it’s beautiful there right now.”

Miguel laughs and says, “It’s envy, you know.”

“What is?”

“You’ve never been to Hawaii. Jealousy means you had something in the past and you want it back. Envy means you’ve never had it to begin with.”

“How do you know I’ve never been there?”

“I remember you telling this one chick you’ve never been out of the forty-eight.”

“What if I was, like, lying to get into her pants?”

“I don’t think that’s a good lie to accomplish that goal, especially since I know that’s not your style.” 

My heart flutters and I think, stop stop stop. He doesn’t mean anything I’d want by it. “Should I be creeped out that you know some random factoid about me, man?”

He denies it quickly and that part of the conversation is dropped. We talk for a bit more and it gets easier to talk normally now that my blood isn’t circulating the stupid part of me. But then the alarm went off in my ear and I screamed.

“What happened?” He sounded really worried. 

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot about my alarm. Gave myself enough time to shower and clean myself before everyone gets home.”

“Have you seriously been laying in your own jizz?”

“As if you’ve never done it!” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” I can tell, only now, that he was messing with me. 

“Ha. Ha.” I roll my eyes. “I’m thinking about just throwing away my jizz shirt. I don’t think I want to deal with the shame.”

“I do my own laundry. Even now that I’m back. I have since I was twelve.”

“Guess I’ve led a charmed life, then.”

“I figured that out when you put too much soap in the dishwasher.”

“Man, are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Probably on this side of never.”

“That means no, right?”

“Yes, Craig, that means no.”

“Was I high when I did the dishes that day?”

“Or hungover. It honestly could be either, the way we were in the beginning.”

“I really want to point out how big of an ass you were and it drove me to drink, but I really need to shower, bro.”

“Think of me!”

I laugh, “sure, sure,” trying to sound like I’m brushing it off. 

“You busy tomorrow? Is it alright if I call you?” Oh. 

“Sounds great, man. Talk later.”

And then he hangs up. I look at my phone and it tells me we’ve been on the phone for almost an hour and a half. With his voice in my memory, because I guess I’m going to be a perv while I can, I decide to take a shower and allow my balls to de-blue. I’ll reign myself in better once I have to. What was the harm in indulging for now?

~~~

“Dude, you have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, brah? You haven’t locked down a girl yet?”

“I mean, that’s because I’ve been with a few.” I take a drag from my cigarette. Hunter looks like he isn’t buying it. Ryan seems like he might be convinced. 

“You’ve never had any game, though.” Hunter says while adding more wood to the flame. Ryan was worried this clearing wasn’t big enough for a fire. Since we’re on Hunter’s property, guess it’s his problem. 

“There’s never been anyone he likes.” Ryan always speaks for me. Forgot about that. 

“I guess.” Another drag. Flick the ashes towards the fire.

“I haven’t really had time to do much by way of… even dating.” Ryan admits. “My course-load is pretty brutal.” 

“They don’t, like, give you any slack cuz you’re Asian?” Hunter says, pushing his blonde hair behind his ear. 

I roll my eyes. “If anything, they probably think he can do more.”

“You’re so lucky your parents didn’t make you go Ivy League,” from this angle and lighting, Ryan looks even more tired than he did in high school. Didn’t know that was possible. “I think I might be dying.”

“Craig’s parents don’t care that much about him. Charlotte is way better at, like, everything.” Hunter wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t even be mad. I nod, take a drag from my cigarette. 

We all sat silently at that last comment. Ryan contemplating life, me wondering if I could have gone Ivy if I tried, until Hunter said, “Guess who brought refreshments, bros?” And pulled out a cooler from behind his stump. Huh, didn’t even notice that when I came up. 

“Oh, fuck yes. Thanks, man,” Ryan said as he immediately chugged an entire beer without provocation. It was a desperate and amazing sight to see. I stub out my cig on the side of the log I’m sitting on. 

Hunter’s eyes are wide at Ryan’s display, “Uh, sure man.” Hunter hands me one and then opens his own, taking a big swig. “Speaking of getting laid,” he looks around to see who will be annoyed or take the bait of being excited. Ryan and I do neither, sitting quietly, but Hunter continues, “you need to get FUCKED, brah.” He points at Ryan, “It’s absolutely FUCKED up how you haven’t yet.”

Ryan shrugs. “Maybe one day between classes, studying, crying, and something else. Or maybe it’ll happen when I get sick - I dream about getting sick whenever there’s too much. Like mentally, not like pneumonia - and some girl comes up and, like, wants to nurse me back to health or whatever.” 

“Like a nurse?” Hunter nods.

I take a small sip of my beer. It’s not that cold. Only the can is, actually. I stare at the fire.

“Someone like that, yeah. That would be nice.”

“Good, I was worried you were gay or some shit.”

I didn’t look up at that. I felt a little jolt of panic but, at the same time, I wasn’t surprised. Hunter always talked like this. Didn’t bother me in the past. 

“I think if I go the way my father wants me to, he wouldn’t even mind if I was.”

I know Hunter makes a face at that comment without looking up.

“Not that I want to or anything. Just don’t think it’s a thing that necessarily matters.”

I told Ryan I might be gay once junior year. He was very nice about it. As far as I can tell, he’s never told Hunter. I don’t think either one of us are that stupid to trust him with something like that. 

“I could probably be on fire and my family would think I was doing it wrong.” I said, taking another sip. 

Hunter tsked, “I get that, bro.”

As if he ever tried anything in his life besides skateboarding. He wasn’t even good at it. Said he didn’t want to be. Something about how you shouldn’t “try too hard.”

“You know, I saw this guy do a keg-stand the other day, and it was fuckin’ incredible.” Hunter was grasping at straws. I continued to stare into the flames.

“It’s actually real interesting why that makes you more drunk-“

“I don’t wanna talk about science or what the fuck ever, I’m just pointing out that it’s not some shit either one of you pussies could do.” 

If only he knew. Actually, he’s not going to know. Fuck him. “He was just talking about something he’s interested in, man. And he’s done that in the past. Why are you acting like such a baby?”

“You both just haven’t changed at all!” Hunter throws something into the fire. I stand up. “I’m actually different now and better than anyone in this fuck-hole town. The two of you are exactly. The. Fucking. Same.”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Ryan tries, but I’m done. I forgot how much I hated Hunter’s temper tantrums. Or I don’t have as much patience as I used to. Or maybe I never liked being around Hunter in the first place.

I grab my backpack and start walking away.

“And where the fuck are you going?!”

I’m going to go be an adult, I think but I keep it to myself. I don’t turn to look at him, instead I put up a peace sign that he might see in this thick dark. 

There’s a gate that I’ll eventually run into, probably literally in this dark, so I can open the gate to leave. Or, if worse comes to worse, I’ll just climb the chain-link. Once I’m over it, I have a while until I’m home. It’s either one a.m. or later and the night feels deafening around me. Crickets are chirping and I hear frogs, but it’s not loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I don’t want to think about the way Hunter acts, necessarily, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of snarky shit Miguel would say to him. I sigh, stumbling over something I can barely see, and so it begins. 

I didn’t like thinking of his name. Just his name alone made me feel queasy and it’s awful. I also tried not to talk about him at all. Which is difficult. When my mom calls to check on me, I always have to stop myself from telling her something about Miguel. Now that I’m at home, I’m even more terrified of accidentally talking about him. I’m just afraid it’ll be obvious once I talk about him that I feel differently than I should about him. My father isn’t the most forgiving about “different” types of people. Not something you’d expect from a guy who came with his best friend, Ryan’s dad, from overseas. But the irony is probably lost on him. Especially since none of us would ever have the guts to tell him something like that. Maybe Cameron would, if he was far enough away and knew he could escape forever. We have seen what my father is capable of when he is angry and it’s not something any of us would like to prod. 

I have thought about telling my mother about what I might be, like how I told Ryan, mostly because she already has the perfect child. Charlotte was not only the first of either side of the family to go to college, she was the first one to get married and have children. Ever since she did those last few things, we haven’t seen much of her. Mom talks to her, apparently, as she seems okay with my mediocrity and Cameron’s Casanova nature. The way he’s going already, he’s probably going to have a million different kids from a million different women. Both my parents seemed happy I wasn’t that big of a fuck up. Both my parents seemed to at least be put off at how much I didn’t care about my studies. I barely wanted to go to college, but Charlotte talked me into it. I really miss her.

I could have said something to Miguel about missing his sister, but it just didn’t feel right. I’m afraid to tell him anything I haven’t properly vetted in my head because I might tell him everything. Then he wouldn’t even be my friend anymore, probably.

The houses and the street lights are getting closer together. Now that I can see, I know that I’m almost back to my parent’s house. 

~~~

It's the middle of the night. Absolutely nothing is on television. It's fucking bogus. Comedy Center has some telephone prank show on, Puppet Prank Party, and I wonder if they think having it be acted out with the puppets makes it funnier or not. Either way, it sucks. Cameron tried to stay awake with me but it didn’t last long. I covered him with a blanket and went back to my room.

Should I read a book or something? I’m just not tired in the slightest. I used to read all the time before I went to college. That's probably irony, but I’m not positive. Maybe I'll ask Miguel later. Not that he would know for sure but he'd laugh, at least. I look through my shelf and wonder what would be fun to read right now. 

I’m so desensitized to phones ringing at this point, I don't think much on it. Then I remember I'm not in the living room any more so it must be mine. And sure enough, at 4 am, it is. It's Miguel's cell number. 

"It hasn't even been twelve hours yet, bro." No answer. "Hey, hello?" There's shuffling. Moving over the mouthpiece of his phone that seems amplified on my end. Oh, guess he butt dialed me. It's happened before. He doesn’t have a flip phone so the buttons are just waiting to be pushed. I move the phone away to hang up but then I hear something.

The sound of bed springs. A groan. A voice, his voice, that moans "oh fuck". It takes everything in my power to not collapse onto my bed as I make sure my door is locked and I turn out my lights. I feel kind of skeevy as I lay down with the phone on my ear and my dick in my hand. I have enough sense, before all the blood is gone from my brain, to flip the phone so the ear piece is still on my ear, but the mouth piece is 180 degrees away from my mouth. If I don’t make noise he shouldn’t hear anything. There might be a way to mute on my end but I don't want Miguel to hear any potential dialing. The phone has to be close to him because he sounds like he's right next to me. As if he's moaning into the phone like a sex hotline. I try not to imagine this is true, I don't want to jump to conclusions as to why he'd do this, and instead imagine a more likely scenario. His phone was on his bed as he started messing around. The phone dialed me and now I can hear everything. Even the probable truth is beautiful. 

He sounds like he's in the middle of his routine and I'm quick to catch up. He must be using some sort of lubricant because the sounds become obscene and fast. He also sounds like he’s being really loud, is he home alone? Still? I bite my lip as I move my thumb over my tip. I try to use my pre-cum to lubricate. As loud as he’s being, he probably wouldn’t hear any sounds my hand might make. 

He starts talking, I jump a little. “Oh, faster. Please, please, please fuck me.”

Like so many things today, this is already too much and as Miguel crescendos, so do I. Only I can’t be as lewd. 

I’m between his legs. My mouth is making the quick, wet noises on his cock. And when he comes, I swallow. I’ve never technically done anything I’m imagining, but with Miguel practically crying in my ear, it’s easy to visualize. And, for the third time in the span of twenty-four hours, I come. 

I use my other hand to move the phone even farther away so I can pant. I’m worried I’ll miss something, though, so I grab part of my blanket and put it over my mouth so I can put the phone back to my ear. I hear rustling again and Miguel seems to be talking to himself, but I can’t hear. My breathing calms and I stay still. I don’t know how long I’ve waited but I’m afraid to move. What if he hears me and he knows what I’ve done? I should have just fucking hung up. Why didn’t I hang up when I’ve been so well-mannered in the past? I’m such a fucking pervert. I’m a terrible friend. 

I find the courage to move my thumb to where I know the “end call” button is. Just before I push down I hear a snore. I still feel awful once my body relaxes. I didn’t want to reach for my previous rag, so I use the shirt I just wore that’s on the bed. I’ll try doing my own laundry tomorrow. Maybe I can ask Miguel how if he calls me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. I had to remember what life was like when cell phones were the size of bricks and that was fucky. Talk about a trip down memory lane.
> 
> follow me on tumblr ([goldengan](https://goldengan.tumblr.com)) for fic updates and twitter ([goldenofapsycho](https://twitter.com/goldenofapsycho)) for nonsense. You can use either to yell at me because we all know I deserve it


	3. Chapter 3

I was so worried that Miguel knew I listened in on his accidental call, but he didn’t act any different. He seemed to be so happy to be back in our dorm and, he even admitted, seeing me. It was odd but it’s obviously a blessing. I wouldn’t even know how to begin handling that situation anyway. 

But then, on the third day of school, Miguel wanted break to be longer. “Not because I don’t want to see you, bro,” he reassured me with a clap on the back. “I just don’t miss the schoolwork. The studying. The tests. The professors. The cafeteria food. The-“

“Okay, man.” I laugh, “I think I get it. You just wanted to chill with your best bro.”

And what better way to chill then with some pot? Smashley didn’t answer her phone when I called originally, but Miguel didn’t seem to mind. We drank a few beers and vegged out on the couch a bit. Talking easy and living easy. Not including the already piling workload, which both of us decided to ignore. 

A knock on the door got Miguel off the couch but instead of it being a rando or a person selling a religion like normal, it was Smashley. I didn’t leave her a message at all, so I’m surprised. 

“Brought you a present, Craigypoo.”

“She’s not even in the house and already she’s annoying me with the pet names.” Miguel says as he walks away from Smashley and the door. 

She sticks her tongue out when his back is turned and I smile. Not because I thought her juvenile act is funny, but more of an acknowledgement that if she did that to Miguel’s face he’d have another quip she couldn’t work her way out of. 

“Let’s get this party started.” She says as she lightly hip checks me, walking to the living room. I close the door behind her. 

We settle on the living room floor around the coffee table, as per the last few times she smoked us out. There have been times where we bought the pot from her, but most of the time she tries to smoke with us. Her end goal, at least usually, is to smash with me. Normally I'd oblige, because why not, but I really missed Miguel more than I want to have sex with her. Not sure how that's going to work out. 

"You guys are super lucky. I got some good shit yesterday."

"Is it true you get your merchandise by sleeping with your supplier?"

Normally he waits longer before tearing into her, if he ends up doing so at all. It's the rudest thing I've ever heard him say. I'm shocked. I'm trying so hard not to smile. 

Smashley’s face is impassive as she says, "Sex work is the oldest profession." I can't tell if she meant it as a joke or not, but she legitimately doesn't seem to care either way. She does have a little grin so she’s probably happy she got him to shut up. 

She pulls out her green, glass elephant pipe and packs the bowl. Miguel is leaning against the couch, eyes thin and lips curled at her work. I'm closer to Miguel than Smashley, hoping she'll get the hint, as I wait with my elbows on the table. 

She lights it, takes a hit, and begins passing the pipe without a word. When I grab the lighter her hands linger on my own. I try to pretend I didn't notice. 

It goes around a few times before anyone says anything. As per usual, Miguel breaks the silence. "Awkward smoking silence is awkward." And I snort as I pass the pipe to Smashley. 

"Usually I like a chill high, if you don't mind." Smashley rolls her eyes, then looks over to me as if I'll empathize. I don't say or do anything. Because, according to every time we’ve all smoked together, that’s news to me. 

Seeming to sense this, Miguel said, “I didn’t mean anything by it. We can all be chill.”

“I don’t think someone as uptight as you knows how to be chill, Miguel.”

“Okay!” I say before I really think on it. Both Ashley and Miguel look to me expectantly. Oh shit, they think I’m going to side with one of them. I just wanted them to shut up. 

Miguel looks away, digs in his pocket, pulls out some money, and hands it to Smashley. “We’ll be buying this from you, thanks.”

“This isn’t even enough!” She stands immediately, letting the money fall from her hand and onto the coffee table. 

“You did smoke some of it.”

Miguel looks like he did before, only this time his eyes and lips weren’t narrowed in just annoyance. Ashley’s trying to look like she isn’t ready to scream, but I know better. After a few minutes, she huffs, grabs the cash, and walks out. The door slams behind her and Miguel lets out a big sigh. “How long do you think it’ll take her to notice that we have her elephant? Should we hold it for ransom?” He grabs the pipe from the center of the table. Then leans back against the couch. 

“Dude, what was that?” I’m not mad or anything. I’m just confused. 

“She just showed up. And I know you didn’t leave a voice mail or send carrier pigeon.” He checked to see if the pipe needed a light. Shrugging, he lit the end and inhaled. I waited for more explanation. He looked at me as he exhaled, “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” I say more curt than intended, “It’s not like it’s a secret you don’t like her, but you normally don’t act like that. At least not at first. Or that fast.”

Miguel rolls his eyes while he passes the pipe to me. “It’s not a secret that you barely like her. Smashley is a big girl with a nice supply of whatever she wants. I’m sure that also includes whoever she wants. She can handle it.”

There’s still a bit of light in the bowl, so I take a drag and hold it for as long as I can. Miguel is staring straight ahead, outside of our window. He opened the curtains when he got back from break, just a few hours before me, and we’ve never bothered to close them. 

“You need to stick up for yourself, Craig. As much as I’d like to be, I’m not always going to be around.” 

Despite my annoyance, my heart speeds at that. I should be angry at what he said but that last sentence has me in a choke-hold and it’s taking everything within me to act normal. I pass the pipe and look at Miguel. He looks at me just enough to grab the pipe, then turns back to face the window. I look out the window too. “You’re not wrong.” 

Three women with all kinds of party supplies in their arms walk past. It’s dark out so it’s probably late enough for a good, weekday rager.

“Do you want to find that party?” Miguel turns to me, indicating towards the window. 

I shake my head. He turns back. 

It’s like that for a while. We take turns with the pipe but, all too quickly, it’s just ash. Miguel places the elephant on the table. The ash in its head falling around it a bit. I watch the dust settle neatly around the elephant. 

“How’s your family?” Miguel asks after an indeterminant amount of time passes. 

I shrug. I’m not sure I want to talk about it. 

“I saw my sister.” Miguel scratches his nose. “She came when I was getting ready to leave.” He looks down as he starts picking at the carpet, “Dad needed to talk to Norma about something but I didn’t pay attention.”

Beneath the pot induced calm was a pained expression. His brow is just furrowed enough for me to notice. “Were you mad at her or something?”

Miguel shrugs. “We used to tell each other everything. We hung out all the time and when she left for college it didn’t change much. I figured, with me leaving, it wouldn’t be too much different. I mean, she’s had-“ He groans. “Of course she can have a boyfriend; I want her to be happy. It’s dumb, I feel dumb even just thinking this and I barely want to say it…”

“You can tell me whatever you want, man.”

“She doesn’t make time for me anymore.”

“You’re allowed to be upset by that.”

He crosses his arms, “I guess.”

“Sounds like she was your best friend and you miss her. Just like you missed me.” I’m too high, I forgot not to say something gay.

Miguel laughs, though. I feel a bit better. “You’re right.”

His arms are still crossed but he looks a little restored. Not so moody. Against better judgment, already blaming it on the pot, I decide to tell Miguel about what happened. “I saw my sister the last few days before I came back.”

“Oh?” He sounds interested, but he’s still facing forward.

“Yeah. Mom said she probably wasn’t going to come over at all. I figured she didn’t want to bring over her kids, but I wasn’t told that much.” I told Miguel about my home life the last time we bought pot from Smashley. Talking about them again is almost poetic. “But, yeah, the last few days before I left, she visited. I wasn’t going to say anything about Ivy and Daisy not being over, but then Cameron asked. Dad was gone, but mom was still worried and didn’t want her to say anything else. It was, uh, it was kind of rough.”

“Was everything okay?”

“Charlotte said she didn’t want to bring the girls around, just in case.”

Miguel sucks in a breath, air hissing through his teeth. “That’s not good, but at least nothing bad happened.”

“I, um,” I put my hand behind my head and rubbed, “I didn’t say nothing happened.” I look to the carpet.

“Oh.” I think Miguel has come closer, but I’m so mad at myself. I’m trying not to think about it. I wanted to hang out with Miguel and forget about all the dumb shit that happened over break. Nothing went right at all. To be fair, things usually don’t go right when it comes to my life.

“What do you always tell me? That I can tell you anything? You know it’s a two-way street, right? I’ll help you out in any way I can. Even if you just want me to listen.” It always alarmed me how open Miguel is with his feelings. He was raised like his sister, I guess. It was different for me. 

“Um,” my voice broke already. I swallowed. “My dad just got home. So he, um, he heard what she said. There was a lot of screaming. But, yeah,” I sniffled and wiped under my eye, “I guess nothing else bad happened. She left immediately after that. So I didn’t get to hang with my sister, either. We were close a long time ago too.” 

I took a few deep breaths, still looking towards the carpet, not wanting to look back up. I’m afraid I’ll start crying if I look at Miguel. I’m afraid I’ll tell him more. I’m afraid this will open the flood gates of information I wanted to keep to myself and now I won’t be able to hold anything else back. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft. I looked up before I could think about it. “Um, do you want a hug?”

Despite everything, I laugh. “Maybe we both need one.”

“It was awkward smoke time, it was sharing time, and now, Craigypoo, it’s hugging time.”

I tried to keep my breathing and heart calm, as of course it was racing now, but at contact I remembered something: This isn’t the first time we’ve hugged.

~~~

I went out to parties with my friends all the time when I was in high school. It was only a few months ago but I missed it. All I’d been doing was studying and reading and being good in general. Not my normal behavior. I blamed my roommate. Even though I didn’t know him very well, he seemed to be a smart-ass prude. We didn’t regard each other with anything but a mild, “Oh! I know of you.” So I decided, as it was a Saturday night, to take Miguel out to find a party. He was very hesitant and almost angrily so. Sitting at his desk chair with arms crossed just over his book. Looking like the picture of held hostage studying. 

“Come on. Have you ever even been to a party, bro?”

“No, _bro_ ,” he punctuated with a raised eyebrow, “I haven’t.”

“Are you serious? Well, let’s go out! Live a little! Don’t you want the full college experience, man?”

“Is this that peer pressure I’ve heard so much about? Because, if it is, it’s come later in my life than I previously thought.”

“Yeah, you should wear that shirt when we go out.” I indicate the one he’s currently wearing. It’s practically threadbare, but there’s no mistaking it. The telltale black t-shirt with red lettering that spells, “D.A.R.E.” “Then we can go get wasted. That’ll show Reagan.” 

He looks genuinely shocked and doesn’t say anything, which is weird because he always has something to say.

“Are you serious, bro? You don’t think I know what shit Reagan did?”

“No, no! I just thought-“

“You just thought you’ve been living with an idiot, so you owe me one. Just go out with me this one time. I’m not gonna make you drink or smoke or snort anything. Just get out of your comfort zone a little bit, man. And, after this, I’ll never bother you about it again.”

Miguel stands. It’s a dramatic gesture. He looks like he’s deciding if he wants to salute. Instead, he just stares. 

“Unless,” I lean on his door frame, “you end up liking it and then you become this party fiend. In that case, bro, you owe me another one.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Craig. First, I need to put on some shoes.” 

I smile. “Don’t wear anything fancy like you normally do, dude. Remember, you _are_ wearing that D.A.R.E. shirt.”

It’s ten-thirty at night. Miguel walks outside with his hands in his pockets. He gives me a questioning look once he sees what I’m holding. “What are you bringing with?” 

“Some party cups,” I grin. He gives me that shocked look again and I say, “Dude, you have to stop looking at me like I’m a complete dumbass. I know you should bring something when you go to a party. Especially uninvited.” Some girls in a clump walk past us. They look all dressed up to go to a party. I follow them. I hear Miguel’s quick footfalls behind me. 

“Wait wait wait!” A few of the girls turn around, I smile at them. A few of them blush and continue as if they didn’t hear Miguel. He looks between me and the girls, confused. “We aren’t invited?”

“Aren’t you an out-of-towner too?” I say with a sigh. Miguel has the decency to shrug. “We’re going to find a party that is so full of people that no one will even notice we don’t belong.” 

“That’s what we’re doing!” A girl in front of us turns to face me, I smile at her again. She looks very cute in her bright pink choker and matching crop top.

“We know Bradley.” Said a denim-jacket wearing girl in the front. 

“No,” the cute girl turns to her friend, “we know of Bradley though Michela.”

“Oh yeah!” Denim-jacket says, “She met him at that last party we went too, right?”

“Were you invited to that one?” Miguel asked. 

The girls laugh. Miguel looks a bit put off, but I smile at him anyway. “See, dude, this is how you do it and it’s completely cool.”

Hands still in his pockets, Miguel already looks miserable. I just shake my head, he has no idea what he’s in for. We all walk a bit more as the girls chatter about who they know or what they decided to wear and why. Then we can hear, and practically feel, the music. The house is a block away. Lights inside going crazy colors and tempos, people are out on the front lawn talking, and people are going in and out easily. I look to Miguel, “See? No one is guarding the door or anything.”

I can tell he’s trying to keep his cool, but he isn’t hiding his awe very well. I smile and nudge him with my elbow. 

“It’ll be fun. You’ll see.” 

The cute girl turns around and winks at me. I smile back, hoping she can’t see my blush in the dark. 

A few hours in and I’m hanging out with the cute girl, Ashley. We take shots out in the backyard next to the pool. She’s wobbling some, so I grab her shoulder to make sure she doesn’t fall in. I’m not that bad off, she probably isn’t either but she’s putting on a show. I’m just here to have some fun. Up ahead, near the fence, I see a guy in a black t-shirt trying to climb over for some reason. For a second I thought it was Miguel. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I felt like a jackass. 

“Hey,” I lean a bit closer to Ashley so she can hear, “have you seen my friend around?”

She doesn’t hide her frown at all. Maybe she is that drunk. “No, I haven’t.”

I look over her again, hand on her shoulder, and search the backyard. 

“Why’s it matter, anyway? It sounded like he didn’t want to be here.”

“He’s never been to a party like this, Ash,” I say without looking at her, still searching, “He’s my responsibility.”

“That’s dumb,” Ashley says, while crossing her arms. 

Finally looking at her, I take my hand off her shoulder and say, “Why don’t you find your friends and hang with them? I’m gonna find Miguel.”

As I’m walking away, she puts her hand on my chest to stop me, and puts one finger up. She digs in her pocket and finds a gum wrapper, then grabs the sharpie on the table next to us, and hands me the paper. “Just in case we don’t see each other tonight.” And she walks away. That was honestly very smooth. I tuck the metallic paper away as I weave my way through the crowd. 

I can’t find him outside, so I decide to look inside. There’s loud cheering when I open the door coming from the kitchen area. I wouldn’t think to look there but the festivities caught my eye. Sure enough, cheering and grabbing the hose to go next is Miguel. Already wobbly, more so then Ashley was earlier, Miguel looks around him as men grab him and... wait. Holy shit, is Miguel gonna do a keg-stand? And, as the dudes flip him over and another dude times him, Miguel chugs. It takes me a moment to remember how to move; I close my mouth and stop blinking at the scene. The gap is closing for me to see, so I move closer, pushing through the gathering horde of people. As I step up, close as I can, Miguel bends his knees a few times and the dudes holding him let him down. The guy with the timer looks behind him at a poster board with different numbers on it and says, “I don’t believe it! New comer, Miguel, went a second over the best tonight! He’s number one!” The cheers are so loud and I’m laughing so hard as Miguel wobbles around with timer guys hand on his shoulder steadying him. I’m practically right in front of him, so when a guy next to him gives him back his glasses, I’m the first person he sees. His grin is big and pointed only at me. My heart flutters and I’m not sure what to make of it, but I make my way to Miguel despite the weird feelings. 

He must think I’m closer than I actually am, because Miguel lunges at me and practically grabs me at my middle. I help him up to a respectable height and the timer keeper guy claps Miguel on the back. “This guy is fucking great, man.” He is either at the stage of drunkenness where he is more amicable or he’s just that kind of guy.

Miguel points a single finger at timer guy and then puts his other arm around my neck, I have to bend a little, and says, “Craig could toooooooootally beat my time. I’d bet absol- absolutely anything!” 

One of the dudes who put Miguel in a handstand checks the keg. He knocks on the side and makes a face. Then grabs a random solo cup and tries to get beer out. “It’s tapped.” Timer guy laughs and does Miguel. Although, something is telling me that Miguel’s laughing just because.

“Looks like that’ll be for next time, new guy.”

“Looks that way.” I say with a smile. 

Apparently timer guy’s name is Bradley and owns the place. Why does that name sound familiar? Just after light introductions Miguel gets antsy. He leads me through the throng as the keg guys are trying to talk to him. I smile apologetically as Miguel uses my hold on him to flail his arm around to move people. Luckily everyone is too drunk to mind and just goes with it. “’Cuse me, ‘cuse me, every- every ladies. I need to find a bathroom.” 

I decide to take the lead, so there’s less flailing, Miguel seemed relieved, and we head to the front door. 

“You need to pee, right?”

“Maybeeeee yes.”

I just laugh, get him outside and away enough from others. He’ll pee in the bushes. He seems to get the hint. I turn around to keep guard. The bushes are right where the wood fences and back gate meet, so there’s nobody around. I hear a zip but I don’t hear anything else. I turn my head a bit and ask if he’s okay.

“I’m sorry I’m so drunk, Craig.” He sounds sad.

I don’t say or do anything until he’s done his business. 

After he’s done, Miguel leans back so he’s on me. 

“Wanna go back inside?”

“Not really. I think drinking makes me sad.”

I chuckle as I hold him steady and lead him back to our place. 

We’re not off the lawn yet when I see Ashley again. We walk towards her mostly because she’s on our way out. 

She makes a face at Miguel when we get closer. “I see you’re a sloppy drunk. Don’t know why I’d think anything less.” She turns to her friends and they all laugh. She’s sure acting not as drunk as she was before. 

I admit that I’m a bit stung. It’s not like I was immediately head over heels for her or anything. Good to know so quick she’s a jackass. “Ashley, don’t be fucked up.” I try to lead Miguel away but he won’t let me. 

Miguel stands up straighter, points at her like he did to timer guy earlier. Only this time that finger is in malice, “Not like you’re sssm-“ They laugh, he shakes his head. I move to take him away but he stands his ground. “You’re not much better SMASHley.” I didn’t realize how many people were on the lawn until that moment. Mostly because Miguel’s drunken bellow carried. The whole front area began to laugh, even her friends were laughing. She just stood there open mouthed and then looked to me. I simply shrugged as Miguel and I turned to go home. 

Miguel stumbled a lot and, I admit, I was worried about him. My friends described me when I was blackout drunk and it doesn’t seem too far from this. “We’ll get you some water and you’ll have to drink a lot of it. All right, bro?”

“Do ska- skaters drink a lot of that?”

I laugh, “Water? Yeah, bro, gotta keep hydrated.”

He nodded seriously. “I shoulda guessed it.”

I unlocked the door and got him inside. Lead him to the kitchen and told him to lean against the counter. “We’ll wait and drink water for as long as we can. When you sit down you’ll feel even worse, man.”

“I don feel bad though, Keg.”

I chuckle. I’m drinking water too. Every time I take a drink he follows me, even if he’s in the middle of a sentence. It’s kind of endearing. 

“Okay…” I look around the kitchen for some bread and peanut butter. “I need something like this, but I don’t think you can handle it right now, man.”

Miguel’s messing with the fridge magnets. Most of them were left there from whoever lived here before. Some were new and from restaurants trying to sell us to their places. Most of them can’t make words. 

“Hey!” Miguel says. I turn to face him as I’m slathering on the peanut butter, “We can spell “keg”!” 

“Huh.” We have mostly consonants and just one vowel. “I never noticed that before.”

“I was staring at one for one second longer than the best time. Kegs will be forever implanted in my brain.”

“You were doing more than just staring,” I shake my head and stifle a laugh. He sounds so serious. It’s honestly adorable. “And you don’t remember the number?”

Miguel looked up at me with sad eyes, glasses sliding down his nose, mouth slightly open, “I don’t.” He looked at the fridge with the same expression. “I wanted to put my accomplishment on the…. On…” he pokes the fridge door softly. 

“We can ask that Bradley dude some other time. He seems the type to have another party.” I take a bite.

“Did you know that he sells pot? Or, wait, maybe he smokes it? Have you ever smoked, Keg? I really want to but I pretended not to so my parents would help pay for college.” Either the water is helping or he’s a chatty drunk. Could go either way.

“I haven’t, big guy. I think I would like to try some too, but I’m not sure who I’d smoke it with. I’d wanna be comfortable, you know?” I take another bite.

“Craig!” Miguel gasps. I’m so startled that I’m worried I might choke. He doesn’t notice. “We could smoke together! You made sure I didn’t die! I trust you!”

“I put you in the situation, though.” How quickly they forget. I look at the bread in my hand. It’s already unappealing. I’d rather just have the hangover. It’s not like I have to sober up after sneaking drinks with my high school friends. 

“Oh, you were just tryin’ to be nice to your stuffy roommate. Admit it, I was stuffy.”

“I thought you were more of an asshole. But, I don’t know man, maybe you will be once you’re sober again.” I put the bread down on the counter. Normally, I’d be worried at what Miguel would say, but he doesn’t even look down.

We take a drink from our respective water glasses. His hand seems a bit steadier now, but he’s leaning more on the counter. 

Wait. “I just remembered. Why did you say that to Ashley?”

Miguel had to be reminded on who she was. 

“Oh! Her! Yeah, when she was hanging on you, someone saw her and recognized her as the girl who tried to smash a can between her boobs.”

Well that’s not what I thought that meant at all. “I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“She just got over the bruising, the guy said.”

“Man, that was some quick thinking, though. I can’t believe how snarky you are. Even when you’re shit faced.”

I take a drink from my glass, I’m almost out. Miguel just watches and doesn’t drink.

“Hey, man. You feelin’ okay?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe I should help you upstairs.”

Before I could really register what happened, Miguel has his arms around me and is squeezing. “Um,” my heart was hammering in my chest. This was such a weird situation and I’m not sure why? He was just hugging me. “You okay?”

“Craig, you’re the only guy friend I’ve ever had.” He squeezes a bit tighter, “And you’re just as nice as a girl.”

Deciding to take that as a compliment, I clap him on the back a few times, hoping it’ll get him off me and maybe my heart will stop being stupid. He leans back against the counter. Miguel’s eyes are on mine. They look open but not sad like before. My heart feels weirder and my throat almost feels like it’s closing. 

Miguel licks his bottom lip, still staring at me, and says, “You know that you’re attractive, right?”

I balk, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s still staring with the same intensity. “Hey, man, that’s… that’s nice. Thank you.”

His face looks a bit annoyed, more like a face I’ve seen from sober Miguel, “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’re drunk, dude. Blackout drunk, in fact, you won’t remember this.” I don’t believe that. Not anymore, at least. But I don’t know how to deal with what’s happening.

Miguel gives me an incredulous look. Just as quickly as that emotion was on his face, he seems to give up on it and shrugs. “If that’s true then…” He walks forward a bit, but he trips over his shoe. 

Catching him, I say, “Whoa, man. Why don’t I take you up to your room? I think you need to lay down.”

Craig simply nods. His face is red. He’s probably embarrassed from the stumble.

It doesn’t take as long as the walk home did, he’s definitely more sobered up. I’m thankful. I get him into his room where he almost falls over the rug. I lead him to his bed. He picks up his feet and puts them under the covers. 

“Wait.” I sit next to his legs on the bed and I take off his shoes, then cover his feet back up. “Okay,” I pat his feet, “all set.” When I turn to look at him, he’s giving me that same look from earlier. My mind gives me a flash from the party when Ashley was leaning against the pool table and someone pushed me and I fell into her space. It’s the same look. The lump returns to my throat. I need to say something, though. I can’t just leave. Even if by some miracle he won’t remember this in the morning. 

“Guess we’ll see if you liked partying when you wake up.” My voice is soft. I feel like I can barely speak. Miguel sits up, I don’t move. I look at him up and down. 

“Can I kiss you, Craig?”

Now I really feel like I can’t talk so I just sit there. There’s a moment when he looks sad like when we were downstairs, and, before I can think about it, I nod. 

By the time my brain registers what happened, Miguel’s eyelashes flutter open. I guess I didn’t close my eyes. He leans back, gives me an almost pained look, and says, “I’ll probably sleep now.” And lays down. 

I stand up and I can’t move. I’m facing the bed and Miguel is faced away from me, towards the wall. I want to say something but there’s too much. Every thought is bubbling far underneath me and they’re all swimming so fast that I’m not sure which to grab to say. But instead of saying anything, I say nothing. 

I walk out and leave his door ajar. I’ll check on him later. I don’t think I’ll go to sleep anytime soon.

~~~ 

Miguel is rubbing my back in slow circles as my head is on his shoulder. Somewhere along that memory, I began to cry. He probably thinks it’s something to do with my sister. Fuck, it should be. I feel like such an asshole as tears fall quietly down my face. He’s already heard me sob, it accidentally came out when I remembered our first hug. Memories and time arrive quickly when you’re sober. In high time, though, it almost feels like I time traveled. Back to a year ago when I was unsure about Miguel, myself, and everything that came with those territories. 

My breathing is steadying but Miguel keeps hold tight. My legs hurt from sitting so weird for so long. I lean back so we can finally separate and wipe my eyes. When I look up I see Miguel doing the same. “At least you were crying too.” 

“I think we’ve both had an emotional time away.” 

I rub my eyes. When my eyes are closed, the room feels like it’s slightly swaying. I love laying down when I’m high. “I’m sorry to say something so gay, but I am glad to have you as my friend.” Miguel gives me a familiar look. Sad but open. My heart does that weird flutter-thump thing and I can’t believe I didn’t know I was in love with him even before he kissed me. 

“Best friend, Craig. You meant say “best friend”. It’s okay, I’ll forgive your transgression. But only this once.”

I smile and he smiles back. 

I’ll never tell him, will I? I can think of almost no instance that I would ever be comfortable enough to do so. Nothing in my life will change that much. I’ll still feel the same way I’ve always felt about being honest with myself and I’ll still feel the same way I’ve felt about Miguel. Not even mentioning that if I ever came home with a man, I wouldn’t live to see anything else.

Miguel leans his head against the couch cushions and says, “I wish I felt like moving. Laying down while on pot is so calming. It’s like you’re being rocked by waves on the beach, or something.”

“You’ve only been high, like, four times.”

“And all four of those times have been with you, Craigypoo.” 

“Reagan has done us no favors, man.”

~~~ 

Two Years Later

Ever sense our crying fest on the floor two years ago, I gave up not sounding gay. At least within the comfort of these walls, that is. Outside I was the same as I always was, but I didn’t want to be out there all that often. Everything I did was in reference to Miguel. I’ll got to this class, then the next, and then I’ll see Miguel for lunch. Tuesday’s he works at the library so I’ll go see him there as I study. And so on. 

We’d still go out every once in a while, just to shake things up. Miguel was a bit more sociable once he had a few beers in him. He said loved being at the opposite end of the party and hearing all about “keg-stand Craig”. It always made my face red when he told me that and Miguel would just laugh. 

I thought me and my high school buddies were best friends, but that’s not even close to the truth. I don’t think I have ever been so close to someone before. Our habits and routines fell so neatly into each other. There were times when Miguel was angry he couldn’t find something. But I’d just help him look. Then he’d poke fun at me because usually it was me who put it away. I’d never ask where the object in question actually goes, though, so that it could happen again. He admitted that he knows this by now but “enjoys the journey” through the dorm.

It was nearing the end of the semester and parties were kicking into high gear before dead week. We usually stayed in and chilled most of the time. But Miguel wanted to go out. I didn’t mind, sounded like a great idea. 

It was one in the morning and the partygoers around me were either extremely drunk and obnoxious or tired drunk. I usually nursed a few beers nowadays. Keg-standing was fun occasionally. Bradley, Smashley’s pot dealer, helped get people off my back about it and made sure I only did if I wanted to. It had been a while, but no one has apparently beat my record. 

As my junior year was ending, I wondered how long it would take for all of this to become a memory. How long before Bradley went off and didn’t care about things like keg-stand records anymore? Where would he go with his life? What would he do? I barely knew what I wanted to do, but majoring in business seemed like the best idea out of anything. I had a few ideas rolling around. I kicked a few to Miguel but I had the feeling he was just telling me they were a good idea to humor me. I don’t know if that’s actually something he would do, but it was something I’m afraid of. Well, besides Miguel learning how I feel about him. 

A hand was on my shoulder and I knew who it was immediately before I saw him. “Guess what?” He said, sounding a tiny bit toasted.

“What?” I lean back into his hand more.

“I think I’ve met the girl of my dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought this was a dead fic!
> 
> Things have been weird in my life lately, but I have been working on this for quite some time. Shouldn't be getting held up anymore but I won't make any promises. 
> 
> you can follow me on twitter ([goldenofapsycho](https://twitter.com/goldenofapsycho)) for fic updates and fandom nonsense


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